Night Vale Calls
by madelinesticks
Summary: Welcome To Night Vale, Cecilos. Someone wanted an erotic call line AU. I wrote an erotic call line AU.


Cecil had always been one for using his voice. In high school, he'd been on the debate team, had taken French and unmodified Sumerian, had excelled whenever there was a presentation or discussion or report that could be delivered verbally.

Cecil was good at talking, skilled at it in a way few people were and taking it as his craft, capable of adding emotion, implication, drama, all at the drop of a hat with an obscene ease that was part innate and part learned with extensive practice. Cecil, after high school, had been thought to go into radio, or theatre, or voice acting, perhaps even law where a verbal argument could make the difference and cinch a win.

He did none of these things. Instead, through a series of coincidences and happenstances, favours and important orders from the Sheriff's secret police, Cecil began working on a sex line within Night Vale. Cecil had always enjoyed talking dirty after all, and here he was getting paid for it.

What a positively stunning turn of events, but then, this was Night Vale. Here, people ended up where they were meant to be. Cecil had been working the lines for a fair few years now - he had his regulars. Steve Carlsburg, whose violent fantasies were less erotic than Cecil would have liked in an ideal world, and Hiram McDaniels, who had to conference call with each of his five heads, and there was John Peters (you know, the farmer?), who never really wanted to talk sex but was far more interested in telling Cecil how to grow and harvest the perfect peaches.

Cecil liked his job. He had his regulars, and he had his newbies - newbies like Dana, an intern at Night Vale community radio, who for now was difficult because Cecil hadn't yet figured out how to make her melt. And then, there were college students who were very nervous about using the phone, but called anyway, and often stuttered through an orgasm or two.

Cecil didn't mind that - it was all part of the fun.

And then, one day, a new voice came from the other end of the line. This was not a nervous college student, oh no, this was a nervous man, of full years.

"Hello, darling." Cecil had purred. "And what's your name?"

"Um, er, well, it's- it's Carlos."

"Carrrrrlos." Cecil let the name roll in his mouth, deciding he quite liked the taste of it on his tongue, and he heard a gasp from the other end of the line. **Well**. It seemed Carlos liked that too. "I bet you're rather pretty, aren't you, Carlos, hmm? I love your voice." Cecil purred, and, with the tiniest, minute sound at the end of the line, he heard a zipper. Cecil grinned.

"What is it you'd like me to do to you, Carlos, if I could reach, hmm? Stroke your cock? I'm very good at that, I promise you. Just imagine it, my hand replacing yours, moving slowly at first, just a little bit cool compared to the rest of your skin, grip a little tight so you can feel it. Stroke after stroke, a thumb over your head-" At this moment, Carlos did the same with his own hand, and gave a choked sound of pleasure Cecil took satisfaction in. "And then my mouth, perhaps. I'd be absolutely happy to settle at your feet, you know, and look up at you as I take your cock. Even the sight would be fairly erotic, my dear, dear Carlos, my lips stretched taut around you, wet with precome and saliva."

Carlos whimpered, and Cecil continued. "Mmm, yeah, laving my tongue all over you, tracing the veins on your shaft with it, and then sucking just a little too hard on the head."

"But then, I'd rather you fuck me." Cecil added as an afterthought, and he heard Carlos' answering mewl like a peal of pretty bells to his ears. Oh, he definitely liked this one. "I'd just like to put my hands on your shoulders, Carlos, and fuck myself down on that cock of yours."

Carlos was giving short, breathy sounds now, and Cecil could imagine the sound of his hand on his own cock. "I just need you, Carlos, I just need you to fuck me-"

Carlos came after a few minutes more of this - Cecil could tell by the way he gasped and then suddenly went quiet. "Thank you." Cecil purred, and Carlos stuttered through the same words in response, and then he hung up the phone. Oh, Cecil liked him very much indeed.

Carlos became a regular caller, dialing Cecil's number once or very occasionally, twice a week. This was alright, this was perfectly alright.

Until Cecil heard a familiar voice while buying that week's groceries in the supermarket, and he fell head over heels. Carlos was beautiful. He was a dark-skinned man, stubble covering his jaw in black, and his hair was thick and gorgeous, with hints of premature silver appearing at the temples.

Cecil nearly dropped his basket on the floor as he took in Carlos' beautiful, beautiful face, his beautiful, perfect hair, and his sweet, gorgeous labcoat. He fell for that man instantly.

"H-Hi!" The word tumbled out of Cecil's mouth as he stared, wide-eyed at Carlos. Carlos turned to look at him, perplexed.

"Do we know each other?"

"I imagine you, er, know my voice." Carlos stared at him, eyes wide.

"Oh. Oh, you're- you're Cecil. Wow, you are, um, hotter than I expected."

"Ditto." Carlos' cheeks suddenly went much darker as he blushed, and he tried to turn his head away slightly so his hair hid the rush of blood.

"Well, I suppose, I should, um-"

"Wait." Cecil offered a very soft smile, taking a step forwards. "Would you like to join me for coffee? I notice you have no frozen goods, so I'm sure it would be fine if you didn't immediately go home." Carlos bit his own lip hard.

"Is that not, er, against your policies?"

"It's against the rules to have a floating cat in the office's bathroom as well, but we don't really follow that one."

"What?"

"Go on a date with me." Carlos offered a shy smile, letting the matter of the cat drop.

"Sure. Sure, I'd- I'd love to."

Cecil thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest, and he joined Carlos in line. They shared a little, tiny smile, and Cecil felt a scarlet tinge appear in his own cheeks. Working on the phone line was the best decision he'd ever made.


End file.
